A Gift Given
by Amy M. Taylor
Summary: A character study of Marie D'Ancanto Rogue three weeks after her mutation is discovered


Everyone should have been asleep but Marie was still careful as she eased down the steps. She carefully stepped over the fifth step, knowing that it always creaked, and pressed herself against the wall. When she reached the bottom, she stopped and listened. All she could hear was the pounding of her own heart and she let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding and slipped off the staircase and reached for the door.  
  
"Where do you think you're going?" a voice came from behind her, heavy with weariness.  
  
"I... I was just..." Marie stuttered, her eyes wide. She had not expected her mother to be awake at five o'clock in the morning.  
  
"Were just what?" her mother frowned, trying to sound sharp but failing. She just sounded worn-out to Marie. "You know what your father would say about you going out."  
  
Marie sighed with exasperation. "I know exactly what my father would say," she snapped. "He would say I'm a freak and that I shouldn't endanger other people. If it were up to him, I would have stayed in the house for the past three weeks. I can't take it anymore, Momma, I just can't!"  
  
"You're going to that hospital again aren't you?"  
  
Marie nodded silently, wringing her hands and averting her gaze. She looked at her hands, gloved despite the heat of the warm southern summer. Would she ever be able to feel someone's skin beneath her fingertips again?  
  
"Why do you insist on sneaking down there all the time? You know I'd tell you if there was any change in that boy's condition," her mother sighed. Once again, it appeared she was attempting to reprimand her daughter but was able to find nothing but that perpetual weariness. "All you do is make your father angry."  
  
It was true, she knew. Her father had never come to terms with the changes that had left her incapable of human contact. He had barely spoken to her except to reprimand her for wanting to leave the house that had become her prison. He never looked her in the eye. Her mother, though wary, was more sympathetic and would often defend her against her father's wrath, creating a riff in the once happy D'Ancanto family.  
  
Marie gave her mother a pleading look and finally she caved, waving her daughter off. "Go. Just don't come to me when your father finds out you snuck out again," she sighed, turning away.  
  
"Thank you," Marie breathed, wrapping her arms around her mother. Her mother stiffened involuntarily but Marie was, as her father required, wearing a long-sleeved shirt despite the heat. Regretting the reflexive stiffening, Marie's mother took her daughter's gloved hand and squeezed it in silent apology. Without another word, Marie turned and walked to the front door, opening it and pausing only to glance once over her shoulder at her mother's shaking form, and then slipping out into the predawn darkness.  
  
It hurt that her mother shuddered at her embrace and that her father wouldn't look her in the eye. It hurt that she hadn't been allowed out of the house, that her father had called her a freak. Ever since she accidentally put David in a coma, none of her friends had called. The only thing that kept her in Meridian was David and the fear that she might have killed him.  
  
Pushing aside her thoughts, Marie breathed deeply. Night had not yet relinquished its grasp and the air lacked the heavy heat that the sun would bring as the faint grayness on the eastern horizon seeped into the inky black sky. As she turned the corner, her house out of sight, she slowly removed her gloves, one finger at a time. She relished the feel of the breeze against her skin and the freeness of movement she had unrestricted by the fabric of her gloves. She shoved the sleeves of her shirt up, baring her arms as well. Without even realizing she was doing it, she ran her fingers up and down the length of her arms. How could such a simple pleasure be so deadly? It had never occurred to her that something as simple as human contact could ever be taken away from her. She crammed the gloves into her pockets, shaking her head clear as she continued her walk.  
  
The birds were beginning to sing as Marie walked into the downtown Meridian. There was no one else on the streets yet but that didn't bother her much; she liked it best when it was empty. No one was staring at her with hate or fear in their eyes, spitting at her or, worst of all, crossing the street so not to have to make eye contact with her at all. In Meridian, everyone knew her story.  
  
There was one light on down the small strip of shops on the edge of the city and Marie headed towards it. It was the bakery and Lou Patterson, the owner, was always there before sunrise laboring in the heat of the huge ovens. As she neared the shop, the scent of fresh baked goods wafted towards her and she quickened her step as her stomach was making her aware of the fact that she hadn't eaten anything since dinner the night before. She stopped in front of the little shop, tapping on the glass of the door to get the attention of the baker.  
  
Lou looked up and smiled pleasantly at Marie. He was a large man and his walk was nearly a waddle as he walked to the front and unlocked the door for the errant teenager. "Snuck out again, eh?" he asked, stepping aside to let Marie into the hot bakery. His red face was cheerful, however as he led her back to the ovens.  
  
"Yes," Marie replied with a sigh. She was grateful for the friendship of the kindly baker; he had been the only one who would associate with her since the incident three weeks before. "Smells good."  
  
"Thanks," Lou puffed, pulling a tray of hot, sweet buns from the oven. "Care to test one?" he winked.  
  
The kind gesture managed to elicit a smile from the gloomy girl and she reached and plucked a hot bun from the tray. It was so hot that she nearly dropped it and she began to blow on it in an effort to cool it. "Thank you," she said quietly, looking up at the jolly man.  
  
Lou shrugged his shoulders. "Least I could do - I could hear your stomach growling all the way down the street," he laughed good-naturedly. "So, you going down to the hospital?"  
  
Marie nodded. "As soon as they'll let me in," she replied.  
  
"I don't know why you torture yourself like that, Marie," Lou shook his head. "It's not as though you did anything wrong." He had no idea how good it felt to hear him say that.  
  
"Well, I know but... I don't know. I don't even know what I would say if he was awake," she admitted, finishing off the roll. "I just need to know. To see that he's all right."  
  
"And if he is? What then?" Lou asked, placing another tray in the oven and looking his young friend in the eyes, putting to words the question Marie had been avoiding all these weeks.  
  
"I suppose I..." Marie hesitated. "I want to leave."  
  
Lou frowned at the young woman, looking her over. The past three weeks had been hard on her and all her confidence was gone. She looked afraid of the world, of her own shadow even. "I was afraid you'd say that," he admitted finally. "Where you aiming to go?"  
  
Marie closed her eyes a moment, remembering the fantasy she had shared with David three weeks before. Three long weeks before. It had been another lifetime. "Canada," she said finally, her voice no louder than a whisper. Once more she began to relate her dream to travel to the snowy north. Lou listened patiently to Marie's emotional recount, not interrupting as she put words to the dream that she had not spoken of since that awful day. She helped him work as she told him, enjoying the quiet companionship of working together with another human being. When it came time for the shop to open, though, she put on her gloves and slipped back out onto the street.  
  
There were more people out on the street and the sky had made the transition from night to morning. Marie pretended not to notice anyone and looked at her feet. She automatically headed towards the hospital where she would wait until they let her in at exactly seven o'clock. Usually, if she was there right when they started allowing visitors, she could get in before David's parents. She would do all she could to avoid their hateful looks.  
  
By the time she arrived at the hospital, it was nearly seven so she didn't have much time to wait. The receptionist didn't hold her up when she walked in precisely at seven; Marie had become something of a legend at the hospital in the past three weeks. Her visits were sporadic but frequent enough that they came to expect her and no one bothered her when she headed towards the ICU, her stomach in knots. When she reached the waiting area, she heard excited voices coming from down the hallway and she headed towards them anxiously. They were by David's room and Marie had a feeling that this was it...  
  
"May I help you?" one of the nurses addressed her sharply.  
  
Marie blinked and stopped abruptly; she hadn't even noticed that the woman was standing there. "Is he awake?" she asked, breathless.  
  
The nurse narrowed her eyes at the young woman. "Yes, he came out of the coma about an hour ago. Why?" she asked sternly.  
  
"May I... may I see him?" Marie asked timidly, her throat suddenly feeling very dry. "Is he okay?"  
  
"He's fine," the nurse replied, looking down her nose at Marie in a way that clearly implied "no thanks to you" even if she did not say as much. "I will ask him." Without another word, the nurse disappeared into the room wherein lie the boy that had haunted Marie's dreams and nightmares for so long.  
  
The seconds stretched out into hours in Marie's mind as she paced in front of the door. Where was the nurse? Shouldn't she have come out by now? What could possibly be taking so long? In fact, the nurse was in the room no longer than one would expect but the wait was tortuous and long to Marie, who had been waiting for this moment for three weeks. She froze in her tracks as the nurse emerged from the room.  
  
"Well?" Marie asked, her voice wavering.  
  
"He won't see you," the nurse said smugly, closing the door behind her.  
  
"What?" Marie asked, defeated. "He can't... I have to... You don't understand! Could I just take a peek? He wouldn't have to see me!"  
  
"What is this all about?" a cold voice came from behind Marie. She shivered, feeling the icy stare of David's mother on her back.  
  
The nurse smiled pleasantly to the woman. "Good morning Mrs--"  
  
"I don't want formalities, nurse. I want to see my son. Get this freak away from me and my family," she added, not even acknowledging Marie as she brushed past and into the room. Marie stared at the door even after it closed, envious and angry.  
  
"You heard her, girl," the nurse sniffed and walked away down the hall, leaving Marie quite alone outside the door to the hospital room.  
  
She wasn't quite sure what had gotten into her just then but, filled with the emotion she had kept within her so long, she ran to door that separated her from David and, inevitably, his mother, and burst into the hospital room. And there she stood, a stunned expression on her face as the reality of what she had down sunk in. David's mother, who at first stared in utter shock, rushed at her and she was only able to get a glimpse of David. But that glimpse was enough; the awful look of terror on David's face was forever ingrained in her memory.  
  
Marie did not remember much about her return home. She remembered running out of the hospital, the bitter taste of her own tears. The rest, however, was a blur. She did not remember the shouting voices or the stares. She ran straight back to her house, leaving the front door open behind her as she ran to her room.  
  
"Marie?"  
  
There was silence behind the closed door. Marie's mother gently tapped the door. "Marie, is everything all right?" she asked, her voice gentle.  
  
"Go away."  
  
"Marie..."  
  
Silence.  
  
Marie buried her head in her pillow as the door to her room opened with a low creak. The room was dark, lit only by a crack of sunlight that spilled through the gap between her curtains. She could sense as much as she could hear her mother coming nearer and felt the bed shift as her mother sat beside her.  
  
"Marie, what happened?" she asked gently, placing her hand on Marie's back in an attempt at a comforting gesture.  
  
"He wouldn't see me - his face, Momma! You shoulda seen his face!" she sobbed, burying her face in her mother's lap. To her relief, her mother did not draw away but instead just rubbed her back soothingly.  
  
"I'm sorry, Marie, I really am," she said sadly. "Some people just don't understand..."  
  
"No one understands!" Marie interrupted, her sobs wracking her slender frame.  
  
Unable to find words to soothe her daughter, knowing that there was nothing she could do, Marie's mother just sat there with her daughter, soothing her with her touch until the tired, emotionally drained teenager fell limp in her lap, fast asleep. She gently placed Marie on the bed, longing to kiss her daughter on the top of the head like she used to when Marie was small.  
  
Marie hardly left her room for the next few days and her mother began to worry. Her father shrugged it off when his wife expressed her concerns, saying that she had finally learned what was expected of her. She was not convinced.  
  
Her fears were proven correct when she awoke to find her daughter gone. She knew what had happened as soon as she saw the note on the kitchen table that morning when she had gone downstairs to start the coffee. Her hands trembled as she lifted it, reading the familiar, slightly messy, handwriting.  
  
Dear Momma and Papa,  
  
I am sorry to do this to you but I had to go. I can no longer endure the stares. Everyone knows. I need some time to think and sort things out. Please forgive me.  
  
Love, Marie  
  
The mother of the errant teenager could do nothing but sink into the kitchen chair and cry about the loss of her child, a gift given and so swiftly taken away. She wanted to curse God for tormenting her beloved daughter, for depriving her of that which she valued most in the world. Her family was irreparably torn and even if she did see her daughter again, she would never again be able to even touch her.  
  
"The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away," she murmured sadly, rising from her seat to start the coffee. Her husband would be cranky if he didn't have his morning coffee, even if the coffee was bitter with tears. 


End file.
